Constantly Moving Forward
by sweetiepie1019
Summary: DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILERS! Sequel of sorts to 'A Beginning at the End.' Glimpses of moments between the end of the war and the epilogue, pertaining to HG and RHr. COMPLETE.
1. Love in the Common Room

AN: I decided I'd write a couple little fanfics that cover some of the important points of Ron/Hermione's and Harry/Ginny's relationships. It started with my fic "A Beginning at the End" and will continue on with subsequent chapters in this fic. I have no idea how many I'll write, though I can't imagine it'll be more than ten chapters, and it will end before the epilogue began. So here goes.

Disclaimer: If I owned this, I wouldn't write fanfic, obviously.

If someone had told Harry Potter that there would be a life after defeating Voldemort, he would have said they were mad. He hadn't realized how much over the last few years he'd come to see his life as a short and narrow road pointing only towards Riddle. In the past week, it was if someone had taken off his blinders, and suddenly there were so many possibilities that he hadn't been able to contemplate any of them. If he tried to imagine a future, he thought he might be crushed by all the choices that had never been available to him. To a boy who'd only had one choice for so long, the multitude was incomprehensible.

So here he sat, in an armchair at Hogwarts. After the many funerals in the past couple weeks, he and a few of the students and teachers had decided to come back to Hogwarts. They had one summer to rebuild and re-staff the school before the students came back, and it was the most useful thing Harry could think of doing just then. Of course, as much as he loved Ron and Hermione, sometimes he just wished...

"RONALD WEASLEY, YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"

... they'd gone home.

"PENPALS?!?!? SERIOUSLY?!?!?! WHY ARE YOU STILL WRITING TO KRUM?"

Harry sighed. So did Neville, who was sitting across from him. "I was hoping to go to bed soon," he commented forlornly, looking over at the stairs up to the boy's dormitory, where the shouts were coming from.

"... AND I WILL WRITE TO WHOMEVER I WANT! AND WHAT WHERE YOU DOING, LOOKING AT FLEUR THAT WAY WHEN WE HAD DINNER AT THE BURROW, YOU WERE DROOLING SO HARD ..."

There was the sound of Ron laughing before he bellowed back, "YOU WERE SITTING NEXT TO HER, YOU INSANE WOMAN! I WAS LOOKING AT YOU!"

Suddenly, it was silent. Neville looked even more uncomfortable, while Harry started to laugh. "I can't go up there now," Neville said desperately, reminding Harry just for a moment of the old bumbling Neville.

"Just use the girl's dorm," Ginny suggested, sitting in the chair next to Harry's. "The enchantment on the stairs got all shaken up with the giants walking around just outside."

Neville nodded at her thankfully over at Ginny, and went up the stairs she had just come down. Harry barely noticed his friend departing. He only had eyes for the girl next to him.

In the time since the war ended, they hadn't really talked about their relationship. They'd just sort of come back together, Ginny's head buried in Harry's chest as Fred was lowered into the ground, Harry's hand gripping Ginny's whenever the pressure of being the hero was too much, and kissing in empty classrooms and closets, holding her as close as possible to remind himself he didn't ever have to leave her again.

Now, it occurred to him that as close as they'd been the last few days, they had barely spoken a word to each other. He realized right then that the time of silence was over.

He reached out for her hand automatically and she gave it to him. "I killed him," he stated simply.

Ginny got out of her chair and let go of his hand, walking to stand in front of the fire. "I know."

"We broke up because I had to fight him. I had to do whatever it took. And I'm sorry for that," Harry added with feeling.

Ginny didn't turn around to look at him. "I know."

Harry, suddenly frustrated, got up from his chair and strode over to Ginny. "What can I say? I had to battle Voldemort. I had to go on a mission. I had to take Hermione and Ron and nobody else. I've had a job to do since I was a year old, with things that were set in motion before even Dumbledore was born. Do you think I wanted this?"

Finally, Ginny turned around. "I'm tired of fighting for you, Harry."

Harry couldn't really say anything to this, so she continued. "I've fancied you since I met you when I was ten years old. And ever since, I've been fighting. Fighting my shyness, fighting for you to notice me, fighting to keep you with me. I just don't want to fight anymore."

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. He tried again and nothing but this strangled sort of noise came out, and he hurriedly shut it again. The third time, he managed to say, "When Voldemort was about to kill me, I thought of you. Every time I was about to do something dangerous or I thought I was going to die, I always thought of you. Now, with the war done ... nothing could keep from you. Nothing."

And there it was. That hard, blazing look was in Ginny's eye; next minute they were kissing again, neither sure how they got there or who started it, but it was very long time before either wanted to stop.

AN: Ok, I know, cheesiness is oozing out, but whatever. I think it's kinda cute. And I feel that, while HG got more time than RH, there was still not enough. So I'll try to split the chapters evenly. Love? Hate? Review!


	2. Ron's Proposal

AN: I actually wrote this before I wrote the last chapter, but I thought in the case of fairness, I'd put HG first. Anyhow, it's again cheesiness, but hey – they're happy, they're alive, and they've spent half their lives with big scary dudes trying to kill them. I say they deserve a little happiness.

Disclaimer: I alone of the thousands of fanfic writers has rights to Harry Potter. Really. No I don't, don't sue me, thanks.

"Harry! Harry, if you don't shut up laughing, I'll curse your nose off, see if I don't."

Ron scowled over at his best friend, who was still chuckling. Harry grinned back at him unashamedly. "Sorry, mate. Can't help it."

Ron's scowl deepened. "Yeah, well, see how much help I am when you propose to Ginny. If you propose to Ginny. Are you proposing to Ginny?"

Harry chuckled again. "Not the point, Ron. And I'm sorry. Look, what are you so nervous for? You know Hermione. She loves questions."

"Ha-ha." Ron was practically one with his armchair, he had sunk so low into it. "I know me better. And how many things have I messed up in the two years we've been dating?"

Harry's grin got irreverently large. "Well, you did jinx Crookshanks by accident."

"I gave her flowers that tried to poke her eyes out with their thorns," Ron continued glumly.

"You turned her hair orange for two weeks."

"Elbowed her in the stomach when I tried to open the door for her."

"Spilled treacle pudding all over her mum at dinner."

"And last week, I Vanished her eyebrows," Ron concluded miserably. "Honestly, why doesn't just chuck me and get it over with?"

Harry, obviously repentant, attempted to put Ron in a better mood. "You're being too hard on yourself. I've done loads of stupid things to Ginny, I'm no better than you, really. They put up with us, that's all." Ron didn't look any happier, so Harry changed the subject. "So, you've decided what you're doing about a job?"

Ron shrugged. "Helping Hermione with S.P.E.W., aren't I? Mind you, I still don't see how we're going to convince elves they even want freedom. Still, after Dobby and all, I can't deny she's got a point. And we're more likely to convince wizards than anybody else, you know, all that leftover fame from the war and everything."

Harry smiled in understanding. "Yeah. Auror's looking like a stupid sort of job choice these days. You'd have to work for the ministry, and catching Dark Wizards seems much less important when you've already fought the greatest Dark Wizard of all time."

Ron crinkled his eyebrows. "So you're going to work at George's shop for the rest of your life, then?"

"Nah," Harry replied, a thoughtful look on his face. "I've been thinking about Ollivander's. I'd like to see how wands are made and all. Maybe I'll get back to being an Auror when I get tired of all the peace and quiet. I'm quite liking it for now, though."

Ron nodded. They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Ron said abruptly, "What do you reckon? I could just show up to the restaurant tomorrow in dress robes with a minister in tow and tell her there's a dress in the bathroom, and hope she doesn't enchant the table to beat me over the head of something."

Harry couldn't help laughing again. "You'll think of something in the end. Besides, it doesn't really matter how you ask her. I'm sure Hermione will say yes."

"Ron. Ron, where are you taking me?" Hermione fidgeted anxiously against Ron's hold on her arms, glancing from side to side as if she could suddenly see through her blindfold. "Ron, if you don't tell me ..."

"Step up," Ron replied, unperturbed.

Gingerly, Hermione lifted up a foot and felt for a step. Instead, she banged her shin on some sort of metal platform. "Ronald!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down a little in pain.

Ron sighed. This was not going at all well, especially if she was already calling him 'Ronald.' He muttered '_Locomotar_' under his breath. Hermione flew up gracefully and landed on the platform without hitting the metal or the doorway, though she did yell at him using magic on her.

"You don't put spells on other people without warning! Ron?" Hermione became nervous as she realized that Ron was no longer holding her. "Ron?"

"I'm here. And stop asking where I'm taking you. I wouldn't have blindfolded you if I'd wanted you to know, would I?" Ron grasped Hermione's arms again and began to steer again, even more carefully. When Hermione simply made a huffing noise, he added, "Just trust me, 'Mione."

She huffed again, but quietly, and her arms relaxed as she was led forward for a minute or two. Suddenly, she was swung around and pushed gently through what felt like a doorway. "Ron?" she asked tentatively. "Are we here?"

"Yeah, we're here." Ron took a deep, shaky breath and removed Hermione's blindfold with a flick of his wand.

Hermione blinked a few times, taking in her surroundings. In front of her was a window, with two scarlet benches built into opposing walls on either side, with shelves just above them. Her eyebrows knit in confusion as she realized where she was. "Ron ... Ron, why are we on the Hogwarts Express?"

"Er," Ron explained eloquently. His ears were turning very red.

Hermione simply looked more confused. "Ron?"

Ron took another breath and tried again. "Er ... well ... this is where we met."

Hermione turned around to face him. "Ron," she said again, but this time looking at him tenderly.

"In this compartment, actually," Ron said eagerly, obviously relieved that Hermione seemed to be pleased.

"Ron ... it's just ... this is so ..." Evidently, Hermione couldn't find words to comment on exactly what she thought it was, so she beamed up at him instead.

"And I brought you here," Ron continued, his ears now scarlet, "because there was something I wanted to ask you."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, Ron," she said once again, and sank down on one of the benches.

His face now starting to turn the same color as his ears, Ron knelt down in front of Hermione and took her hand, causing her to emit a funny sort of squeak. "Hermione Granger, I think I've loved you since you insulted my very first spell when I was eleven," Ron said, looking Hermione straight in the eye. "Will ... will you marry me?"

Hermione let out a weak sort of scream and leapt at Ron, bringing her arms around his neck and covering his mouth with hers. They fell to the floor, Hermione still on top of Ron.

After a few minutes of frantic snogging, Ron sat them both up against the bench on the opposite wall. "That's a yes, right?" he asked Hermione, peering down at her anxiously.

"Of course it is," Hermione told him, smiling widely. "Ron, you did all of this ... it's just, it's incredible, really ..."

Ron grinned down at her in a dazed sort of happiness. "Always the tone of surprise," he said. Before Hermione could reply, he bent down and recaptured her lips.

When they finally came up for air, Hermione only had one last thing to say.

"Wait until your mother hears we got engaged and she wasn't even there to see it."

AN: Ok, I know what you're thinking. And, yes, Ron can be that sweet! Also, in my mind, it's possible he consulted Ginny first. Eh. Love? Hate? Review!


	3. Harry's Turn

AN: More fluff! More schmooziness! More cheese! It does not end, my friends. By the way, can't stop listening to "Boys Like Girls." Really great band, and this was partially written while listening to "Hero/Heroine" over and over and over. I have to say, I know that song pretty well by now. Now, on to the anonymous reviews! I'll also cover those from "A Beginning at the End," since I never got around to those. Here goes:

_stolen _– I'm happy you agree. Wasn't it irritating? As always, glad to fill that fan void. You probably shouldn't send death threats to JK, as she probably has some sort of secret service to deal with such things. I would if I had that kind of money.

_Hagridsclone5 _– No, it didn't take me that long to write the chapter. I was up one day, got the Deathly Hallows that night, read it, stayed up the rest of the day, went to sleep late after rereading DH, got up after four hours to go to breakfast with my mom, was busy all day, and starting writing the fic at some time past one. It took me a little over an hour.

_adri_ – Thank you! Me, too! I was very irritated about that. Obviously, I am now doing so. In fact, I am doing exactly what you suggested!

_Musique_ – Not a problem. Always glad to help a fellow shipper out. I felt exactly the same way. I think you meant "embraced," which, if you did, I couldn't agree more. Thanks very much!

Disclaimer: If I owned HP, I wouldn't be going to a state school.

Harry was very glad when Ron and Hermione's engagement party was over. Not that he wasn't happy for the two of them. It was just far too obvious that Mrs. Weasley was still upset that she'd been the last to know that her son and one of her pseudo-children were engaged. There was a slight stiffness in the way she served everyone their slice of cake, and she kept shooting daggers over at the happy couple. Also, she was a little miffed that her youngest boy was getting married, and Charlie, Percy and George were still single. She kept dropping hints about how if nineteen were old enough to be engaged, anyone in their twenties should at least have a nice, steady girlfriend.

More importantly to Harry, of course, was Ginny's reaction. She was silent throughout most of the dinner, and when she congratulated Ron and Hermione, her smile didn't manage to reach her eyes.

Harry sat down next to Ron and Hermione as everyone began to leave. They were holding hands, oblivious to anyone's disapproval. "Hey, you two."

"Hello, Harry," Hermione replied, beaming. "It was a good party, wasn't it?"

Harry decided not to answer that question. Instead, he turned the subject to their future wedding.

"Hermione keeps saying she wants to get married in France," said Ron with a long-suffering expression. "I told her that my mum'll want us to have here, like Bill n' Fleur."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "But doesn't a wedding in Paris sound beautiful?" she asked Harry earnestly.

"Er ... I suppose. Fleur would like it anyway," Harry said distractedly, looking over Ron's head, watching Ginny walk out the back door.

Hermione frowned. "Oh. Right." She looked back at Ron. "Maybe we should just do it here."

"What, no Paris?" Ron asked grinning.

Harry ignored all this. Muttering "Congratulations," he stood up and went out the same door as Ginny.

He walked across the lawn towards the trees. He found her sitting against one of the biggest, looking up at the stars. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her. She scooted closer to him and put her head on his shoulder. "Didn't feel like staying at the party anymore, eh?"

Ginny sighed deeply through her nose, but didn't give an answer.

Harry looked down at her. "What? The cake the wrong flavor? The butterbeer too bland? Afraid that George might snap and hex Ron so that your mom will lay off of him?"

"It's not ... it's nothing, really." Ginny had transferred her gaze from the sky to her feet. Her face was reddening, which happened far less to her than the rest of the family.

Harry tried to suppress a grin. He had a pretty good feeling what this was about, but he wasn't going to help her get there. "Ginny. Come on. Tell me."

Ginny's face was starting to clash with her hair, and her eyes remained resolutely on her feet. "I want to get married."

Harry bit back a laugh. "Really? Now?"

"I feel stupid saying it. We're younger than those two, and we don't really have jobs or anything, and I'm just out of school. I know it's probably too early for us, and I'm not trying to press the issue, really. I just ... I want to," she concluded in a small voice.

"Hmmm," said Harry, pretending to think about it. "Well, we have been going out for two years. Your mum'd be happy. I wouldn't mind either way. So ... if you really want to ..."

"HARRY!" Ginny leapt up in protest, practically snarling in anger. "How could you think ... you'd actually ... after everything ..."

Harry couldn't help it. He started to chuckle, then snort, and then he was laughing so hard he could barely see Ginny glaring at him.

"What is WRONG with you?" Ginny asked, with a look on her face that clearly said she would like nothing better than to hit him. Harry tried to answer, but just ended up laughing more. "Fine," Ginny said coldly, and turned to stalk off.

This sobered Harry up instantly. He practically flew upwards and caught Ginny's wrist. "Wait!"

"Why?" Ginny looked furious; Harry was pretty sure that if he didn't explain in a second, he'd be on the receiving end of one of her famous hex's, which was not at all a nice place to be. "You're going to explain why you're the world's biggest prat?"

"I've had the ring for a month, Gin," Harry told her hurriedly, keeping a wary eye on her wand hand. "I'm sorry, it was a joke. I've just been waiting to ask you, alright?"

Ginny's eyes softened a little, but her arm was still tense under Harry's grip. "Waiting for what?"

Harry relaxed a little, sensing that he might not end up with tentacles on his face after all. "I just wanted Ron to go first. You know how he is. If we got engaged first, he might not ever ask Hermione."

Ginny scrutinized him for a moment, then nodded. Harry grinned in relief and slid his hand down into hers. "You can check if you don't believe me. The box is in my sock drawer."

Ginny her lip, apparently attempting not to smile at him. "You were going to ask me to marry you?"

"Actually ..." Still grasping Ginny's hand, Harry kneeled down in front of her. "I know it's not really a surprise anymore, and it wasn't really I pictured it would go, but I don't think I want to wait." He smiled up at her, and she stared back down at him, looking for all the world as though she'd never been happier in her life. "Will you marry me?"

It looked as though the sun was rising on Ginny's face. "I should really say no, you know," she said conversationally, her eyes dancing. "It really wasn't very nice of you, trying to pretend that you couldn't care less about marrying me and all."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "But you're going to say yes anyway, right?"

Ginny sighed dramatically. "Yeah, yeah, alright." When Harry didn't move, she laughed and said, "Yes, I mean yes."

Whooping, Harry shot upwards and pulled Ginny into a kiss. Seconds later, he broke the kiss, picked her up, and swung her around in a circle, making her throw back her head and laugh. He didn't even have time to set her down properly before they were kissing again, her hands pressing on the back of his neck, one of his hands on her back and the other pushing the back of her head to make her even closer.

Half an hour later, they holding each other under the same large tree, Ginny's head buried in Harry's chest, his lips in her hair. Harry felt supremely content with the entire world. Moments like these were strange for him, even now; he still felt the need to check over shoulder at all times, and sometimes he woke up thinking he'd find himself back in the tent, a Horcrux around his neck. It was good to remember that he was really free to anything he wanted, things he couldn't even imagine doing before. He remembered how he'd said just a few years ago that he'd never be able to marry Ginny, and yet here they were.

Ginny's giggle broke Harry out of his reverie, mostly because Ginny didn't usually giggle. He craned his neck to see her face. "What's so funny?"

"Just imagining the look on Mum's face when she finds out we're getting married, too," Ginny replied, smiling rather wickedly.

"Oh, about that," said Harry, realizing he'd forgotten to mention something to Ginny. "As far as anyone's concerned, we're not engaged for the next two weeks."

Ginny twisted her own neck and squinted at him. "And why's that, exactly?"

"Your mother is a slightly terrifying woman, if you want to know," Harry replied. "I was going to ask you at that big dinner we're supposed to be having here, you know, when Luna and Neville are visiting, in front of everybody. That way no one has to be angry at anybody else."

"Coward," Ginny said, clearly amused. "Should I act surprised?"

Harry grinned. "If you want. Just remember to say yes."

AN: Awwww! By now, you should start to be seeing a pattern here. It will continue throughout the fic, I believe. Love? Hate? Review!


	4. Moving Day

AN: So, as you could've probably guessed, I had a little screw up. I was alternating chapters with major events, and Ron and Hermione kept going first. Problem? Harry and Ginny have the first kid! Whoops. So I put this little segment in, about Ron and Hermione moving to their own apartment (I know – Mrs. Weasley must be scandalized). Anyway, so here this is. Hope you don't mind it too much, interrupting the flow and all. Written while listening to "So Contagiously" by Acceptance. There's a good vid on YouTube for all those Ron and Hermione fans to this song. Anyway, no anons this time around, so on with the fic!

Disclaimer: I own all of the books. Does that count? No? Alright, then.

Ron and Hermione surveyed their new apartment quietly. Ron's arms were wrapped around Hermione, holding her flush against him. Hermione had settled into the spot just under Ron's chin, which seemed to have been made for her, and was quietly running her fingers up and down Ron's arm. It was a rare moment for them, not to be bickering or working or pressed up against a wall somewhere. They were quiet and peaceful.

"Does the space seem smaller to you?" Ron asked abruptly, his eyebrows crinkled as he glanced around.

Hermione followed his gaze, frowning as well. "Not really, no."

"Really?" Ron untangled himself from Hermione and started to wander around. "I reckon it must be all of these boxes. Makes the room seem so much smaller."

Hermione clucked her tongue at him. "Don't start ..."

"And look!" Ron flipped a box open with his foot. "What could these possibly be?" he asked in a mock surprised voice. "Look, Hermione! This box is filled with books!" He knelt down and opened another box. "And here! Books are everywhere!" He looked up at Hermione. "Why are there books everywhere?"

"I need them, Ronald Weasley, so don't start," Hermione warned again, looking ready for the inevitable fight.

"Here it is! 'Hogwarts, A History.' Hermione, haven't you memorized this by now?" Ron waved the book in her general direction.

"Ron! Be careful with that!" Hermione hurried over to him, her eyes locked on the novel in danger. Smirking, Ron raised it and waved it a little bit above her head. Hermione made a small jump, missed, and recovered by plastering a scowl on her face and tapping her foot impatiently. "You're acting a child, do you know that?"

"Yes," Ron replied simply, still smirking. Making sure the book was out of her reach in one hand, he used the other to hold the back of her head while swooping down for a quick kiss.

Hermione glared at him for a moment, trying to maintain her dignity. Then her resolved dissolved, and she started to laugh. Ron, taking this as a good sign, bent down to kiss her again. Sighing happily, Hermione flung an arm around Ron, dragging him deeper, and taking over the kiss. Ron, not at all objecting, backed her into the nearest wall, making sure he was as close as he could get to her. Too late, he felt her other hand groping around his wrist...

"Ha!" Looking supremely pleased with herself, Hermione ducked under Ron's arm, holding her precious book firmly in her grasp. She was smiling widely, looking for a moment like she was a second year again, her hair wild and her eyes sparkling.

Ron snorted, annoyed, and slumped against the wall on his side. "Our house can't be a library, you know. I don't know where you've been keeping these books when you were with your parents, or at Hogwarts, for that matter, but ..."

Hermione grinned at him. "Maybe you worry too much."

Ron cocked his head to one side. "Hermione? Hermione Granger? Is that you?"

Hermione pursed her lips at him. "What I _meant_ was, we'll figure something out. I hardly thought you'd be the one worrying about things like space and books and too many boxes."

Ron shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. "Well, so what? Maybe I do worry about things like that now. I don't know ... it's different, isn't it? We're living together, we're getting married. It's probably time for me to think about stuff like that."

Hermione was silent for a moment, biting her lip, a strange look on her face. Ron's ears reddened. "What?"

Hermione shook her head. "You just surprise me sometimes."

Ron would've really liked to have asked what, exactly, she'd meant by that, but a second later Hermione had dropped her book safely on their couch (the only bit of furniture in the area as of yet) and had attacked Ron's mouth so forcefully that he forgot why he'd wanted to talk at all.

AN: Aw, look at the random cuteness! Not to mention, shortest chapter to date! Next one will be a marriage (50/50 chance on who), so it will obviously be longer. Love? Hate? Review!


	5. A Short Cermony

AN: Hey, now. That's not fair. I know people are reading, but hardly anyone's reviewing. I don't like to be one of those people that complain about reviews, but hey, I've done it before. Please? It'd make me happy. Hee. Ahem. Anyway, Today's chapter was written while listening to "Misery Business" by Paramore. This would explain anything that seems odd in the chapter. Now go!

Disclaimer: I've checked with the bank and there hasn't been a sudden increase in money in the last week. I guess that means I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter. Except this story.

Hermione smoothed a hand over Ginny's hair one last time before deciding that there was really nothing more she could do with it. "Finished," she declared, sitting on Ginny's bed and smiling happily. "You look beautiful."

"Yeah, I look beautiful. A half hour early." Ginny would've looked like one of those pictures from bridal magazines if she her face was covered in an expression of utter annoyance. "Hermione, I followed the schedule you made because you're my friend and you were trying to help and I didn't really care, to be honest, about how or when I got dressed. But now I'm stuck here, wanting to be married, but not actually getting married for thirty minutes, and without the actual getting ready part to distract me. And I'm bored."

Hermione sniffed, crossing her arms and looking like the normal Hermione for a moment despite her sleek hair and nice dress. "Well, if you didn't want my help, you should've just said so. An hour early is better than an hour late."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Sure. I'm gonna see Harry."

"No!" Hermione grabbed Ginny's arm as she stood to Disapperate, eyes opened wide in horror. "The bride can't see the groom before the wedding!"

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "What?" she barked, a little tick in her eyebrow indicating she was dangerously close to snapping.

Hermione, noticing this, let go and backed up. "It's a Muggle tradition. Look, let's just ... talk." Ginny gave a small sound of frustration. "Come on, one hour. If you visit Harry now, you'll mess up your make-up."

Ginny looked as if she really couldn't care less about make-up, but she sat back down, crossing her arms and glaring mutinously. Hermione made a strangled noise; she'd tried to hold back a laugh and succeeded miserably. "I'm sorry," she said, truly looking it, "it's just, you look like you did when you were fifteen and Harry wouldn't let you go to the Ministry with us."

There was a moment during which Ginny tried to keep her face straight. A second later, she gave up and started laughing. Hermione smiled uncertainly, relieved. "I remember the look on Harry's face when he had to let us come. He always had to be the lone hero. Even in the woods, he was going to die ..." Ginny suddenly stopped, her eyes haunted.

Hermione wrapped an arm around her in an uncharacteristic gesture of sympathy, pulling her friend's head down on her shoulder. "Harry just wanted to keep you safe. He wanted to keep all of us safe. It's really sort of noble of him, if you think about it."

"Noble. Huh. I always thought he was suicidal." Ginny shook her head, sat up and smiled. "No point in thinking about that. Come on. Let's talk about your wedding. Just a couple of months now, isn't it?"

Hermione, who suddenly appeared to be glowing, nodded. "I just have to figure out a few more things. Such as how to explain to my ninety-three year old great-grandmother about magic and whether we should get an actual band or just enchant the instruments to play themselves."

"Enchant the instruments. It's cheaper," Ginny advised.

"Well, it's not like I have help. Ron keeps saying we should elope so we don't have to see Aunt Muriel again," Hermione said, halfway between amused and annoyed.

Ginny couldn't help laughing again. "That's my brother. Why are you marrying him?"

Hermione shrugged. "I love him."

"Yeah, I know, but why?" Ginny was genuinely curious, and completely distracted.

Pink crept into Hermione's cheeks. "I suppose ..." She gazed out through the window towards the place where the wedding was being set up. "I always wanted someone I could have intellectual talks with. Someone that would challenge me. Make me think in ways I hadn't before."

"I'm sorry. You do know you're marrying Ron, right?"

Hermione turned her head back to Ginny. "Ron's different. He challenges me in other ways. He doesn't think things out. He just does what his gut tells him. And sometimes it's the right thing to do and ... he's made me look at everything differently. When he saved me from that stupid troll ..." She smiled, lost in remembering. "I completely froze and he did the first thing that popped into his head. He's the only person who I can imagine who will still surprise me when we're old."

Ginny's mouth was hanging open a little. "Oh."

"I can also tell you why you and Harry work, as well," Hermione said. Ginny looked at her skeptically. "Really. Harry is my best friend. His whole life, he's tried to save the entire world by himself. It's like those fairytales ... I mean, children's stories. He's the hero, and you're the damsel in distress."

Ginny snorted. "Hardly. I can take care of myself."

Hermione nodded. "Exactly. You can take of yourself. You don't want his help. You're strong and independent – like him. He's always denying himself of what he wants, and you fight for what you want. You're the one person he refuses to risk, and you're the one person that he has absolutely no control over. You match."

Ginny looked stunned. "But you're Hermione Granger. You know books and facts. Not ... this."

Hermione blushed again, pleased with herself. "I've learned. And we should go downstairs. The wedding's about to start."

Ginny started up. "Wait. What?"

"It eez time! Ze musique eez playing now." Fleur's voice floated from down the stairs.

"Good distraction," Ginny complimented Hermione before heading out of her room and down the steps to the place where she would get married.

It was small – much smaller than Bill's, anyway. It had been kept quiet so that no one sneak into the famous Harry Potter's wedding. The Weasley's all sat on one side, along with one or two of Ginny's old school friends. On the other side were Mrs. Tonks and Teddy, Luna, Neville, Dean, Kingsley, and Aberforth. Lee Jordan sat next to George towards the back of the row. Hermione and Fleur were the only two bridesmaids, and Ron was the only groomsman. The ceremony was short, and in only a few minutes Harry and Ginny were kissing for the first time as husband and wife, enthusiastically enough that Ron had to turn his head away and Mrs. Weasley turned pink.

There wasn't a real reception, so the group simply trouped up the hill to the place where Mrs. Weasley had made a dinner, probably the largest she'd ever done, which was saying quite a bit. After being congratulated several times, Harry and Ginny hung back, their arms wrapped around each other.

Harry looked down at Ginny. "So? How do you like marriage so far?"

"I don't know. Now that we're married, I keep thinking that I could've done better. Is Zacharias Smith still available?"

Harry chuckled. "And here I was thinking I should've asked out Mrytle while I had the chance."

Ginny bit her lip worriedly. "What can we do now?"

"Put up with each other, I suppose," Harry replied, sighing. "I think I'm worse off, though."

"Ha ha," Ginny said dryly. "I love you, you know."

"Good," Harry said grinning. "It's too late to get money back on the cake. And I love you, too," he added as Ginny glared at him.

"Come on, you two, it's time to eat!" Ron sounded disgruntled. Laughing, Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and ran with him up the hill.

AN: Short, it's true. But I have two weddings and hardly enough patience to describe both of them. Or, well, probably even one of them. Anyway, hope you liked it. Yay for reviews! Love? Hate? REVIEW!


	6. In a Word: Catastrophic

AN: Tired. Very long day. Took two and half hours to write. Going to bed.

Disclaimer: Like I managed to write Harry Potter? Please.

Hermione Granger was the girl with the answers. Hermione Granger was the girl with the plans. Hermione Granger was the girl who had everything under control.

Until the day she got married.

It had started out so well, she thought forlornly, her head buried in her clammy hands; it started out _spectacularly_. She had woken up in Ron's arms, his snore blowing loudly into her hair. Biting her lip to keep from laughing at him and waking him up, she slipped out from the bed and walked over to the window. She couldn't help smiling as she saw the giant white marquee on the Weasley's lawn once more. It was finally their turn. She ran the pads of her fingers lightly over her ring, an intense happiness seeping from her stomach to her head to her feet.

Without warning, she was spun around roughly. Before she could open her mouth to protest, someone's lips were pressed insistently against hers. Her eyelids dropped down instantly, and her hands lifted to cup Ron's face as his arms slowly snaked around her, bringing her closer. The slow happiness Hermione had felt at the sight of the marquee exploded into something so intense that for a long time she couldn't think of absolutely anything more important to do than to kiss Ron as hard and as deep as she knew how.

They broke apart after a few moments, almost panting in a desperate attempt to regain the necessary oxygen level required to live. Ron was grinning down at Hermione in an almost goofy, cartoonish way. Hermione giggled, surprising herself. The way Ron's red hair fell into his eyes seemed even more adorable than usual; the way his large hands grasped the sides of her arms seemed even more thrilling than usual; the way his lips looked, swollen but still soft after their kisses, seemed even more tempting than usual. As she grinned goofily and cartoonishly back up at Ron, Hermione decided there wasn't anything that could go wrong today.

She was still certain of this half an hour later as she sat in Ginny's room again, about to start getting ready. It took her a few minutes to realize Ginny was trying to get her attention.

"Hermione!" Ginny tried pull her face into an annoyed grimace, but couldn't quite manage it. "What? Don't you have a schedule?"

"A schedule?" Hermione asked, dazed. Then something snapped in her head. "Oh! I need to ... I have to get ... Where's my dress?" Her eyes flicked frantically around the room.

Ginny laughed. It was so much more amusing when it wasn't her. "Hermione, calm down. The dress is in the closet, and you've got almost four hours."

Hermione nodded, her eyes still bulging slightly. "Four hours. Alright. That's enough time, isn't it?" she asked, casting Ginny a worried glance.

"Plenty of time," Ginny answered cheerfully. "Don't worry Hermione. Everything will go perfectly."

At that exact moment, a shriek emanated from downstairs. Hermione's jaw dropped in horror. Ginny took a moment to say, "I'll see what that is," before sprinting out of the room. Another shriek sounded just seconds later, and Hermione, a sick feeling in the bottom of her stomach, rushed inelegantly to Ginny's window. A white-haired woman waddled quickly out of the house and started down the window. It became apparent that she was the one shrieking. Before Hermione had a chance to try to understand this development, she saw her parents, Charlie, and Mr. Weasley run out after the old lady. Charlie got to her first and reached a hand out to stop her. With surprising speed, the elderly woman swept a large maroon handbag off her shoulder and began to beat him about the head with it, screaming like a banshee.

Hermione gulped as she realized who the woman was. "Gran ... Granny Granger?" she murmured, her voice high-pitched. Without another thought, she tore downstairs.

A strange sight greeted her. Mrs. Weasley was sitting down at the table, her hair standing out all around her head, which she cradled in her hands. Ginny was kneeling next to her, stroking her arm and whispering in a comforting fashion. Bill and Harry were standing in a corner of the kitchen, looking as if they wanted to laugh but didn't dare. Hermione looked them all over, feeling panicked. "What happened?" she asked rather faintly.

Harry glanced over at Bill, obviously still trying not to smile, then looked at Hermione. "You didn't ... you didn't happen to mention anything about you being a witch to your great-grandma, did you?"

Hermione frowned. "Well, no. But she was only supposed to be here for the ceremony, and her vision isn't all that good."

"It was good enough," Harry said, his grin no longer contained. "You see, when your parents and grandmum showed up, Mrs. Weasley had just lost her temper about Bill's hair again. And she started to try and curse him, and your grandmum walked in ..."

Bill was now laughing. "The woman has better lungs than Victoire did when she was a baby."

Mrs. Weasley chuckled weakly from between her hands. Hermione's own hands flew up to her face, clutching it until her skin was bright white. "Oh, dear ..."

Ginny stood up and walked over to her friend. "Hermione, don't worry. It's your wedding day. Your time. Go upstairs and change. We'll handle it."

Hermione hesitated for a minute. Mrs. Weasley waved a hand towards the stairs and giggled a little more convincingly. Harry nodded in confirmation. "We'll take care of it, Hermione."

Biting her lip apprehensively, Hermione trudged back upstairs. She sunk down on Ginny's old bed, feeling odd. She couldn't quite decide if she should laugh or cry. She sat there for quite a while, listening as muffled conversation eventually struck up in the kitchen and the voices outside quieted down. Sighing, she finally got up wearily and towards the closet. She opened it and gasped. Her dress wasn't there.

Her heart began to beat irregularly. Hadn't Ginny said it was there? She felt around the edges of the closet, as if hoping to find it poking out of the walls. Ginny had said she'd left it there, but it wasn't, and she had no idea ...

A gurgle came from the other side of the wall. Hermione paled as a horrible thought occurred to her. She bolted back out of the room and over to the next room, where Bill and Fleur were staying. When she arrived in the doorway, her worst fears were confirmed.

Her beautiful wedding gown was sprawled out on the floor – it had obviously been dragged there. On top of it was a little girl silvery-blonde hair holding a wand. She gurgled again and poked the dress enthusiastically. The fabric, which had already apparently been turned green and set on fire, ripped loudly. Hermione felt the room begin to spin. The little girl looked up at Hermione and smiled proudly. "Hermy!" she cried, pleased. "Wand! Look at the wand, Hermy!"

Someone gasped just behind Hermione. Fleur practically flew past her, scooping up her child and stammering apologies. Hermione couldn't hear them. She could barely hear Ginny calling her name over the buzzing in her ears. A second person gasped right next to her. Ginny asked, "What happened?"

"Eet was Victoire," Fleur wailed remorsefully. "I left 'er for one moment, and she ... she ..."

Hermione whimpered, her eyes glued to her mangled dress.

Ginny pulled herself together. "Hermione, go. Do your hair. Do your makeup. And don't worry. Mum is great at these types of things, she'll fix it in just a second."

"Ron." Hermione turned a wet gaze at Ginny. "Where's Ron?"

Ginny tried to joke. "Why? He can't fix your dress."

"Ginny!" Hermione said shrilly. "I need Ron! Where is Ron?"

Her maid of honor shuffled her feet. "We sent him to go find George. We were afraid if he didn't have something to do, he'd bugger everything up just because he was bored."

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle ironically. Shoulders hunched, she went back downstairs, hoping that if she got something to eat and got to talk to Harry, her best friend, for a bit, everything would seem much less catastrophic.

At the end of the stairs, she ran straight into Aunt Muriel. In one look Hermione knew, her heart somehow managing to sink lower, that the woman's opinion of her hadn't changed one whit.

"You're the Muggle born, aren't you?" she asked in the same disdainful tone she'd used nearly four years ago, as if they'd never met before. "The one my nephew has taken a fancy to?"

Hermione smiled tremulously. "Hullo, Aunt Muriel."

The larger woman snorted. "Still can't stand up properly, I see." Hermione straightened her back immediately, but Aunt Muriel didn't seem to notice. "And your hair is simply unacceptable." Hermione ran a hand over her hair, which was still bushy as she hadn't had time to style it yet. Aunt Muriel turned to Mrs. Weasley. "Molly, you're letting Ron make a terrible mistake. Mark my words, he'll be back here within a month, wishing he hadn't married such a pathetic half-witch. It's not too late, you know. I know the perfect girl up down by Godric's Hollow, daughter of a friend of Bathilda's you know ..."

Everyone in the kitchen, which included Bill, Charlie, Harry and Mrs. Weasley began to object to Aunt Muriel's comments at the same time; Mrs. Weasley's shouting drowned them all out, her entire body seeming to turn the red usually reserved for her husband and sons.

Hermione had had enough. Tears running down her cheeks, she turned right back around and thundered up the steps. She leapt into Ginny's bed again and sobbed into the pillow.

An hour later, chaos still reigned throughout the house, but Hermione sat numbly in the bed, her face thrust into her hands. She was supposed to get married. She was supposed to get married in just a few minutes, and everything was wrong. Absolutely wrong.

"Hermione?"

Her watery breath caught in her throat. "Ron?" She looked up wildly. Standing in the doorway was Ron, disgruntled and irritable – her Ron. "Ron!" she said again, flinging herself in his arms. They closed around her automatically, and he began to run a hand up and down her back "Ron, you don't know how everything's been ..."

"Oh, yes I do," Ron replied, his voice hard. "Did my Aunt Muriel really say those things to you?"

Hermione sniffed and pressed her head more firmly into Ron's chest. "Yes, but it's not just her, and she's too old to really know what she's saying ... oh, Ron, my _dress_ ..."

Ron snorted. "She knows exactly what she's saying Hermione, she's not that old." Hermione sniffed again and she could practically feel him soften. "It's alright, it'll be fine ..."

Hermione laughed in a slightly deranged way, tightening her hold on Ron. "How? How will it be fine?"

"I dunno." Ron sighed and kissed the top of Hermione's bushy head. "We should have gone to Paris like you wanted."

"We should eloped like you wanted," Hermione said wistfully.

"That's it!" Hermione was surprised when Ron suddenly picked her up and swung her around, grinning broadly. "Hermione, that's it exactly! We'll elope to Paris!"

Hermione blinked up at him, unable to comprehend what he was saying. "Elope to Paris ... elope ..." Slowly, she smiled as well. "Ron, you're brilliant!" she exclaimed happily, almost bouncing up and down in excitement. "Only ..." Her face clouded again. "What about all the guests ... our friends and family ..."

Ron shrugged. "What about 'em. They made our day hell. They'll understand if we want to go and get married without them." Seeing that Hermione wasn't quite convinced, he added, "If you really want, we can do a ceremony later with everyone. Well, nearly everyone," he amended, frowning at the thought of Muriel.

Hermione was suddenly as happy as she'd been that morning. "I remember there being a wizarding part of Paris, sort of Diagon Alley. I saw it when my parents and I went there on vacation. I think there might be a chapel somewhere around there."

Ron laughed. "So we're getting married in Paris?"

Hermione flung her arms around his neck. "We're getting married in Paris!"

And with a pop, they were gone.

AN: Ginny and Harry really didn't get any time in this for two good reasons. One, I couldn't find a place to stick them in. Two – well, you saw what I did to Ron and Hermione's wedding day! I figured I could at least let them have the entire chapter to deal with it by themselves. Love? Hate? Review!


	7. Pratice Makes Perfect

AN: Hey! Did you know that I have another HP fanfic, and have absolutely no problem with pimping myself? Well, it's true! The fanfic is called _If Life Can Go On, I Should Probably Move Forward_. Which isn't the greatest title, sharing a little too much similarity with the one for this fic, but the original title didn't really fit. By the way, thanks for the reviews lately. They've increased the last two chapters. I really do love reviews, you know. Alright, on with the story!

Disclaimer: I wouldn't have named Ron and Hermione's kid Hugo, that's for sure.

Ginny's head leaned comfortably against Harry's chest on the couch. She was struggling not to breath heavily and she worried a bit that she was going end up sweating a bit on Harry, or vice versa. As far as she was concerned, she was never getting off this couch ever again.

The source of her exhaustion shifted a little in their sleep. On the couch on the opposite side of the room, little Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley were curled up in a ball together. Teddy's hair had changed to a silvery-blonde to match his tiny partner in crime. It would have been adorable if Ginny didn't have the somewhat disturbing desire to hex them both into oblivion.

"They look so innocent right don't they?" Harry asked dryly from just above Ginny. She chuckled weakly.

"I think this is why Mum laughed at us when we said we'd take care of them both. She has a very mean since of humor."

Harry's laugh made Ginny's head vibrate a little. "Well, you do remember what she did to Ron after he eloped, right?"

"His eyebrows grew back eventually," Ginny pointed out fairly. She took another look at the sleeping children. "It seemed like such a good idea at the time," she remarked sadly.

Harry sighed. "Take the kids. Get some practice before we have our own."

Ginny turned and stuck her face into his shirt. "Impress everybody with how well we did with the part-veela and iguana child."

"Then announce that you're pregnant. It all sounds so smart," Harry said wistfully. He took Ginny's hand and began to play with her fingers.

Ginny turned over slightly so she could watch. "We could lie."

"Your mum would figure it out, if Hermione or Ron didn't," Harry pointed out. "Who knew that they could be that much trouble? They haven't even started to do magic yet."

"Well, Victoire's got you wrapped her little finger." Ginny grinned up Harry, who had the grace to blush.

"She'd have you, too, if you were so set against Fleur still," he defended. "Not like you're doing any better with Teddy."

Ginny smacked him lightly. "At least I have an excuse! Have you ever tried to look for a kid hiding in a shrub when he can make the top of his head change the same color?"

"Not any harder than refusing someone who calls you 'Uncle 'Arry.' Not to mention, she can run surprisingly fast." Harry looked so adorably confused that Ginny had to reach up to kiss him.

When they broke apart, Harry sighed again. "Raising kids is going to be hard, isn't it?"

"Really, really hard," Ginny replied fervently.

Harry kissed her again, quickly and sweetly. "We've done everything else no one else thought we'd be able to do. We can do this."

Ginny couldn't help laughing. "Is it sad that I'd almost rather take on the Death Eaters again?"

"Very." Harry bent down to kiss her again. She slid up him and grabbed a bit of his shirt, pulling him toward her and intensifying the kiss.

"Harry? Gin?"

"Ron," Ginny muttered angrily as she and Harry broke apart. Harry groaned a little, looking like he had nothing but ill wishes for his best friend.

Sure enough, Ron and Hermione wandered into their living room moments later. Ron made a slight face at the sight of the two of them on the couch in a slightly compromising position, but he refrained from comment. Hermione smiled at her two friends, then shrank back a little at the way they were glaring at her. "Hello. Um ... Your mum told us to come, Ginny."

Ron still had his eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah. She said we should get Vic and Teddy."

Ginny glanced over at the sleeping children and sat up a bit. "Really?" she asked brightly.

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Yes. Oh. And she said that if you want to practice for your baby, you should probably take one at a time, not both."

Ginny could feel her jaw drop. "Wha ...?" she said intelligently.

Ron snickered. "I told you she was right, Hermione. Mum's never wrong about these sorts of things."

Hermione looked put out. "Well, I just thought that Ginny and Harry would have told us, that's all."

Harry's face was a portrait of surprise. "How did she know?"

Ron grinned. "How does Mum ever know anything?"

Hermione had wandered over to the two sleeping forms. "Victoire. Teddy. It's time to get up," she said in a sing-song.

Teddy slapped at the air near her face. "Don't wanna," he murmured tiredly.

"Come on, you two," Ron chimed in, sweeping Victoire up in his arms. "Time to go to Grandmum's."

Victoire smiled sleepily at Ron. "Hello, Uncle Ron!" she said happily, giving his cheek a great smacking kiss.

Teddy, seeing that Victoire was gone, got up hastily. He looked up at Hermione and grinned innocently. "I'm ready to go, Hermy!"

Ron laughed as Hermione grimaced. "Teddy, I wish you would start calling me Hermione," she said, gripping his hand.

Teddy shook his head. "Nope. You're always gonna be Hermy."

Ron nodded. "You tell her, Ted."

Hermione glared at him furiously. "Don't encourage him, Ron," she hissed.

Without saying anything else to Harry or Ginny, they Apperated with a crack.

Harry, still looking somewhat stunned, looked down at Ginny. "So much for our clever plan, huh?"

Ginny nodded. "We shouldn't try and fool my mum." She stood up quickly, yanking his hand to make him get up as well. "But as long as the kids are gone ..."

AN: I wonder what they're doing? Hey, don't give me that look. I meant they were going to order pizza. You all have such dirty minds. Short, I know. Well, the last one was long. Love? Hate? Review!


	8. Flower Names

AN: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up! I had a very busy day on Friday and two stories to update. Hey, I'd like to point out something. If twenty-four people have put this story on alert and thirteen people consider it one of their favorites, why did I only get five reviews last chapter? I'm not complaining, really. But it only seems fair that if you like it enough to read all the chapters, you must like it enough to review all the chapters. Or at least, every other. Please? Because I'm getting fewer and fewer reviews, which makes me a bit nervous.

Disclaimer: It's really hard to think of new things to say for these. I don't own, don't sue.

Ron Weasley was perfectly aware that when he was nervous, he got extremely pale. He knew this made his hair look brighter than ever, and his freckles stand pronounced on his face and arms. He realized that it made him look like he was a gawky teenager all over again.

At that moment, he didn't really care.

It was two o' clock in the afternoon when Ron came bursting through the doors of St. Mungo's maternity ward, panting and wild-eyed. He had run all the way from the Auror's office in the Ministry, too panicked to even remember to Apperate.

A Healer hurried up to him, looking a bit worried. "Um, sir, can I help ...?"

"HARRY!" Ron bellowed, not even noticing the small woman trying to catch his attention. He had seen the familiar shock of black hair, and was in no mood for distractions. He thundered toward the sitting room where he could see his best friend standing up to greet him. "Harry!" he yelled again, though not quite so loud as he was nearly upon him. "What's going on? Where's Hermione?"

Harry looked a bit pale himself, but smiled reassuringly all the same. "She's having the baby, Ron." He grinned widely at him, then glanced down at his own son, who was happily knawing at one of Ginny's earrings.

Ron felt somewhat short of breath. "She's having the baby _now_?" He had gotten a message at work, and the fact that all his family were sitting there was a rather big indicator, but he was waiting for Harry to confirm it. Because this was simply too big for him, and he needed the other third of the trio to lean on.

Harry nodded. "Right now."

With a giant outtake of breath, Ron dropped like a stone on one of the chairs. "Oh."

George and Ginny exchanged glances over his head. It was George who finally spoke. "Hermione's definitely having your kid, then?"

Ron took his head out of his hands, where it had been resting, and glared at his older brother. "What?"

George rolled his eyes. "Well, you should probably go in the room and watch it being born, shouldn't you?"

Ron's stomach lurched, and he blanched. "Where is she?"

Grinning even wider, Harry pointed towards a pair of doors a few feet away. Ron stood up quickly and was off again. As he left the waiting room, he heard someone mutter the word "Git," under their breath, but his mind was too far gone into blind panic to figure out who.

Sweating a bit, Ron swept down aisle after aisle, peering around corners and peeking into rooms, trying to get a glimpse of a bushy brown head of hair. He had worked himself into a near frenzy when he finally caught sight of his wife. Skidding to a stop, he slammed the door open and was at her side in less than a second. "Hermione," he said breathlessly, taking her hand.

She smiled at him, weakly, it was true, but a smile. Her hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat. Her eyes were rimmed with red and were entirely bloodshot. Her fingers, clutched in the hospital sheets on top of her, trembled with exhaustion. She looked so small and unprotected, made even more odd by the fact that Hermione always had that air of being able to take care of herself. But it was very much Hermione who asked Ron dryly, "Was it really necessary to terrorize half the hospital to come find me?"

"You heard that?" Hermione nodded, and Ron could practically feel his ears turn red. "Er ... well, I couldn't find you, see, and ..."

Hermione laughed softly, her breathing irregular. "It doesn't matter, Ron. Don't you want to see your daughter?"

"Daughter?" Ron asked blankly. For the first time he noticed the Healers in the corner, fussing over something which was wailing it's tiny lungs out. "Daughter," he said again, his face breaking into a wide grin.

A Healer broke from the pack and began walking towards them – almost, as far as Ron was concerned, in slow motion. She had a small bunch of white blankets in her arms, from which a gurgling noise was coming. Slowly, gently, she laid the bundle down into Hermione's arm.

A small hand waved about in the air, then yanked on the bit of cloth that covered a little face. Two blue eyes stared up questioningly at Ron and blinked languidly. A gurgle burst up from the back of her throat and for a moment, the edges of her mouth twitched upward in what might have been a smile.

Ron couldn't say anything at all. Instead, despite the disapproving warnings from the Healers, he slipped into the hospital bed. Hermione budged over, then lay her soaked head onto her husband's chest. Ron took a single long finger and traced his daughter's face lightly. His baby gurgled once again, then closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Hermione snuggled deeper into him, and his arms closed around her tightly. Bending down, he kissed her lips sweetly. "You're amazing," he whispered into her open mouth.

Hermione had almost drifted off when Ron realized something. "We haven't named her yet."

Hermione wrinkled her forehead. "Well, we thought we had another month."

"We don't," Ron pointed out.

"I know that," Hermione replied, a touch of her usual annoyance apparent in her voice. She looked around the room as if hoping for inspiration. "I don't remember anything that seems good just now."

Ron nodded. "Well, last time we talked about it, we were thinking about flower names, remember? You know. Daisy, Lily, Lavender ... except for Lavender, which a horrible, stupid, ugly name," he corrected hastily, seeing the look on Hermione's face.

She laughed softly again. "We could name her Rose. It would be like Beauty and the Beast. She's the one thing that we wanted."

Ron didn't bother to ask what Beauty and the Beast was. "Rose sounds perfect," he told her. He looked down at the baby girl, still asleep in her mother's arms. "Rose is absolutely perfect."

AN: A little cliché, and also shorter than I would have liked, but I thought it was sweet. Yay! Love? Hate? Review!


	9. The Growing Family

AN: Yeah, so I don't like this chapter that much, to be honest. But this was always one of two chapters that I never really planned on having. But I started with Ron and Hermione, and I had to switch it up so things fit, and I ended up getting a couple extra chapters that I didn't have any ideas for. This is one of them. Not only that, but I've struggling with extreme writer's block for anything that's not the book I'm writing myself – in other words, all my fanfics. So I'm not really happy with this, but I can't seem to figure anything else out (and I've tried some other stuff, believe me). So continue on, knowing that's it's alright but not up to my usual standards, and that next chapter will hopefully be better!

Disclaimer: If I owned anything HP, you'd see me hanging out with Daniel and Rupert all the time. So until the day you see a slightly chubby, bushy-haired girl with glasses standing around the two of them in all of their press photos, assume I own nothing Potter related.

A loud _CRACK_ disturbed the quiet of the small apartment. A dark figure appeared in the doorway; it straightened and brushed off dusty robes.

Harry stretched widely, groaning as his back curled and cracked. There was nothing more wonderful than coming home after a week chasing evil wizards through the deserts of Africa – no matter how sore and in need of a shower he might be on arrival.

"Gin?" He peered around, wondering where his family could be at five o' clock in the middle of the week. Another realization came on the heels of the first. It was absolutely silent. There hadn't been absolute silence in their home since they'd brought James home, and with the addition of Albus, it was a miracle for the place to settle down to a dull roar.

A roaring terror erupted in Harry's stomach and pushed his heart upwards toward his throat. "Gin? Ginny!" He sprinted into the living room, eyes searching for a hint of his wife, his kids, or ... his stuff?

The apartment was bare. There was one chair, and Ginny was perched on top of it, in a pose of total serenity.

Harry stopped abruptly a few feet from her, as if there was some sort of force holding him back. A shiver went down his neck. All of Auror's training was keeping him calm, but it was a near thing. "Ginny," Harry said, very slowly. "What's going on?"

Ginny smiled up at him, reminding him for a moment of Luna. "We're leaving."

The terror instantly hardened to a giant ball of lead. Instantly, his heart and stomach dropped down a good three feet. Harry had had his share of whacks to the head, but none of them resembled this one. His voice squeaked as he repeated, "Leaving?"

Nodding, she confirmed, "Leaving. Tonight, in fact."

"Why?" Words tumbled out of his mouth; this couldn't happen, not after everything else he'd been through. "Is it the hours? I can quit, I don't need that job, I'll get something closer to home ... What about the boys? You can't just go, I'm their dad, you can't ..."

Ginny's eyebrows had drawn together slowly during his entire speech. Then, with a look that was just like Hermione's when she solved a great academic mystery, Ginny began to laugh hysterically. Harry stopped speaking, confused. Was she mocking him?

Still laughing, Ginny got up, crossed the distance between them and put her arms around Harry's neck. "You're coming too."

Harry was now thoroughly bewildered. Ginny kissing him just moments later didn't really help clarifying things, though he wasn't exactly complaining, either.

When she pulled back, Ginny's eyes were twinkling. "We're moving to a bigger house. And you're an idiot."

Harry felt a sudden need to sit down, and did so on the floor where he stood without any further ado. "Oh," was the most brilliant thing he could come up with to say.

Ginny sat down across from him, still smirking, and grabbed his hands. "We'd talked about it, but I wanted to surprise you. I probably should have mentioned it, though, knowing how well you take surprises."

"Yeah, probably," Harry agreed weakly. He had to remind himself to breath in and out. In ... and out.

"It's not too far from here. And it's closer to Ron and Hermione. The kids love it. They're already there, playing with Rose." Ginny shook her head. "Took three days to move in, but the family helped ... Harry?"

Without another word, Harry tugged Ginny into his arms. "That was the scariest thing. Ever."

"Says the Chosen Boy Who Defeated Lord Riddle." Ginny's voice was muffled by Harry's cloak.

"Yeah. So don't do that again, or I'll tell Fleur that you'd love to spend more time with her."

"Hilarious, you are." Ginny lifted her head. "You want to go see your new home?"

Harry ducked down and captured her lips. He grinned down at her mischievously when they broke apart, breathing a little heavily. "Now I do."

AN: There you go. It'll be better next time, I swear. Love? Hate? Review!


	10. Who to Blame for Hugo

AN: Ok, this isn't that much better, I must admit. I suppose it's time to admit I'm nearly out of fluff. I think there's four chapters left after this, if that. I can't completely promise, though. The plan was to get through the next four events, but I'm only doing it if I can think of enough. I don't want to half-ass this, honestly. I'm only keeping this chapter because I simply had to address the name Hugo. Because ... eww.

Anons!

_mimosa_ – Thanks for all the reviews in a row! And for telling me about the J.K. Rowling interview. I kept reading stuff in reference to it and had no idea what people were going on about. Very interesting indeed. This will important to the next fic that I may start after I finish this one.

Disclaimer: Nah.

"Ronald Weasley, I won't do it."

"Mm-hmmm." Ron had learned long ago that the best way to keep peace with a pregnant wife was to simply put off the arguments. In this spirit, he had buried himself deep into his files, refusing to look up at the frazzled woman pacing, rather quickly despite her protruding stomach, in front of him.

"It's a horrible name and I love our son too much."

"He isn't born yet, Hermione." Ron refused to even look up from his papers. To make eye contact was to engage, and he would not engage.

"You're avoiding the point. I won't do it."

"Mm-hmmm." Or laugh. He wouldn't laugh either. She had very little control of her wand, the more hormonal she got, and it wasn't like they'd all called her the smartest witch of the year for nothing.

"I don't care if your mother yells. I won't do it."

At this, Ron rubbed his forehead sadly. "She burned off my eyebrows, you know. I didn't like that." He pouted, but still towards his desk. Do not look up. Do not engage. Rose is asleep. Everything is quiet. Hermione will most definitely cry. Do not look up. Do not look up.

"What? Is ickle Ronniekins still afraid of his mummy?"

Years ago – in fact, months ago – before marriage and jobs and fatherhood, Ron would've instantly rose to this bait. Instead, his ears reddening slightly, he replied calmly. "You've been spending too much time with George. Anyway, don't pretend you aren't afraid of her, too." Do. Not. Engage.

"Well, Hugo is an awful name and I don't _care_ if your mum wants us to name our son after some dead relative, I won't do it."

"Mm-hmmmm." Dead relative his ass. It was his mother's father, for Merlin's sake. Do. Not. _Engage_.

"Argue with me, Ron!"

The battle with laughter was now officially lost. He snorted loudly and began to chuckle. "What?"

His chin was suddenly wrenched upward and to the left. Hermione was staring him fully in the face, and she didn't look too pleased. "Argue with me, Ron."

"About what? That you can't name our damn kid after my mum's dead dad? What's to argue about? You just go tell Mum that. I'll watch."

He pulled himself out of her grasp and stood up. He was breathing very hard through his nose. So much for that plan.

Hermione looked pleased now. "Our damn kid? Mature as always. And I will go tell _Molly_." She smirked as he winced and took a few steps backward. "I know how important your eyebrows are to you."

"Yeah, well maybe you're hoping she'll curse off some of the hair on the top of your head. You could do with less of it, eh?" He knew he had gone into bad territory, but he didn't care anymore.

Hermione sneered at him. "Maybe next time you could ask her to take care of those freckles instead."

For a moment, Ron opened his mouth furiously, ready to fire back. Then, restraining himself as best he could, he asked, through taught lips, "Why are we fighting? Again?"

"Because we never do anymore!" He had never seen her stomp her foot before, but that was undoubtedly what she had just done.

"So what?" It was the most ridiculous conversation they'd ever had. In nearly seventeen years of being best friends to being husband and wife, this was definitely the most ridiculous conversation they'd ever had.

Hermione seemed to be just as frustrated as Ron. "We have to argue!"

"WHY?" Ron bellowed back.

"You're bored with me!"

Ron's jaw dropped. "Wha ... what are you going on about?"

There was fire burning deep in Hermione's eyes. "As long as we've known each other, we've fought constantly. And now here I am, insulting your dead grandfather, and you won't even look up at me!"

"So ..." Ron moved towards her slowly. "You're worried for our marriage because we get along too well."

Hermione nodded curtly, her chin angled mulishly.

"And you think that I might want to go and, er, argue with someone else?"

Hermione nodded again, but with less determination.

"Alright then." Ron stared her straight in the eye. "Hermione. You are bloody mental."

"What?" Hermione seemed to want to jump into the fray, but was thrown by his calm manner.

"Yes, you are." He had been walking towards her the entire time, and was now less than an inch away. "You are bloody mental and completely insane and totally mad and you think I'm going to sneak off and argue with another woman ..."

"Ronal ..." The "d" was left suspended in the air. Ron had swooped down and met her in passionate kiss that stopped all her protestations.

When they finally separated, Ron looked down at his wife, bemused. "You used to be the sensible one, you know."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "I didn't use to be seven months pregnant."

"I suppose not. Just wait until that's not an excuse anymore." He ducked the hand that went flying up towards his head. He pulled Hermione into as much of an embrace as he could manage. "Hugo's alright, then?" he asked, just to be sure.

She nodded against his shoulder. "Of course. I don't want to upset your mum. I like my eyebrows."

AN: And it's short – but not as short as the last one. I also do like it a bit better than the last one. The descriptions aren't as well written, but it seems a little more in character (well, in character so long as Hermione has raging hormones, which I assume she does, because, well, she's Hermione) and was a bit more fun to write. Love? Hate? Review!

P.S. I tried to put this up yesterday, but the site wouldn't let me. So here it is, a day late.


	11. Reality of Children

AN: So, yeah. I've got two other fics now, so this took me a while to get time to write, and then an even longer while to get an idea for. And once I got it, it wasn't even that original of an idea. But, hey. You liked it the first time. I thought it might be fun to revisit, only with more kids. Also, it sets me up to ask a question. I'm thinking, when this fic is done and so is "If Life Can Go On, I Should Probably Move Forward," I might write a fic about Teddy and Victoire (because they obviously are getting on well enough in the epilogue), and this gives you a little taste of what it might be like, and you could say whether it's worth doing or not. I haven't the slightest idea what form the fic would take as of yet. It might even be a very long one-shot. Still, I'd like to know before I dedicate any more of my dwindling time to it.

By the way, you guys rocked it out with the reviews last chapter. Thanks for reading, everybody! Now, to the anons:

_mimosa_ – Glad to hear it! Though I hope the rolling didn't lead to some type of injury. I KNOW! While I'm slowly getting used to the name Hugo, I really can't imagine what possessed her to use it in the first place.

Disclaimer: I don't even technically own the computer I'm writing this on, so that should answer the question in and of itself.

Never again.

Never, never, never again.

It had been a stretch, saying they'd sit for Teddy, especially with Lilly starting to walk, mostly into the things rather than around them. Ginny could admit it freely, though; that kid had Harry wrapped around his little finger. She couldn't argue exactly, either. There were only a few more weeks before Teddy was off for his first year at Hogwarts, the longest godfather and son had been apart.

This argument had been just as effective when Victoire, wide-eyed and pleading, had shown up on their doorstep, wanting to spend a last weekend with her best friend. Ginny had sighed, hemmed and hawed for a moment, but she couldn't deny the look on Teddy's face when he realized who Ginny was talking to. She didn't know whether the two of them reminded her more of her and Harry at that age, or Ron and Hermione. Certainly, Teddy was the most infatuated, his adoring gaze following Victoire no matter where she ran to throughout the house, following the girl like a forlorn puppy, his hair slowly changing to silvery blonde. Still, when she thought no one was looking, Victoire would glance over at her friend, a secret smile on her lips.

So perhaps both. And who was Ginny to get in the way?

At this point, five children and two adults had been a bit of an imbalance. Victoire, however, had managed to inherit most of both Bill's and Victoire's better traits, and was quite capable at helping to wrangle the younger children; Teddy helped for her, if half-heartedly.

Things began to truly wrong when Hermione and Ron had shown up. Hermione had to run to work, and Ron was a bit under the weather. They'd brought Rose and Hugo with them.

Three adults, seven children. Ginny decided that this was still reasonable. As long as Vic and Ted helped, they could handle this.

Until, of course, an emergency had come up in Auror headquarters. Harry and Ron, Harry apologizing and Ron wiping his nose dismally, had left on the spot.

One adult. Seven children. And Ted had finally persuaded Vic that helping wasn't as much fun as playing with his new wand, because who needed to know real spells if one could set things on fire just by poking them with a stick?

Ginny tried, she really did. She roped up Hugo and Lilly in the kitchen, letting them wander about together, bumping into things together and giggling happily as they bounced off, due to a few quick charms on Ginny's part. Teddy and Victoire were sent off to the guest room, sans wand, to think about what they'd done. James, Al, and Rose were sat down for a quick reading of fairy tales.

One adult. Seven children. No problem.

Then a loud crash had emitted from just upstairs. Ginny had sprinted towards the spare bedroom, where a shelf had fallen over, though neither of the abashed best friends had an explanation about had it had done so. She was in the middle of what promised to be an impressive lecture when a similar crash sounded from downstairs. She took the steps two at a time to find Hugo and Lilly crying on the floor. Apparently, they had run into the one thing that they couldn't bounce off of – each other. Ginny healed their bumps and bruises, and was just calming them down when she heard a door click. James had figured out how to open the locked potions cabinet, helped by Teddy's confiscated wand.

The last straw had come. Ginny sent a Patronus with one word attached. "Help."

What seemed like hours later, though it was probably less than a moment, Mrs. Weasley burst into the house like a whirlwind.

The shelf was fixed, and Teddy and Victoire, red faced and chastened, were sent into separate rooms.

The potions cabinet was shut and the lock redoubled. James, Al, and Rose, under the stern eye of their grandmother, had gone to bed quietly, permitting themselves to be tucked in and read stories with minimal fuss.

Lilly and Hugo were snuggled into the couch on either side of the elderly matron, falling asleep with their heads tucked in her lap.

Ginny was sent to bed as well, shaking slightly.

One adult, eight children. A peaceful house.

When Harry crawled down next to Ginny that night, she looked at him with terrified eyes. "Seven kids, Harry. Seven of them."

He stroked her hair, holding back laughter. "I know, Gin."

"My mother had seven children for years, and I couldn't handle them for a single day." Ginny's voice was laden with awe.

Harry kissed her lightly. "She had years to add on each and cope with each new addition. You've never had problems with our three alone, have you?"

"No."

Harry settled back into the mattress, pulling her with him. "Well, alright, then," he said, in a final sort of way.

Ginny thought this over for a moment. She nodded. "I suppose you're right."

Harry smirked. "Course I am.

"Just in case, though," Ginny decided firmly, "no more babies. Three's enough."

Harry chuckled. "Not to mention, you never know when George or Percy or Charlie'll bring their kids over here."

Ginny glowered at her husband. "If that happens, you're staying here all on your own See how you like it."

AN: Yeah, yeah, it's very similar, I know. Eh. I'm running out on fluff. I've never done a full fic of fluff, so I'm sputtering out. Three more chapters, I think, and then it will be over and done with this particular story. Love? Hate? Review!


	12. Driver's Ed

AN: FINALLY! My writer's block is broken! Mostly, anyway. And I got time to write for the first time this week. School is in full swing, and I just got seriously busy. But here I am, happily writing away. So this was inspired by my own driving lessons. Ok, I know what you're thinking. Yes, I'm not exactly sixteen, but the reason why it's taken me this long to get my license is a very long and complicated one. Second, no I haven't crashed or anything like that. Instead, my dad told me his horror story about driving (he reversed into his garage door), and it made me want to write about one. Hee. Hey, why use your own pain if you can exploit that of your family and friends? Yeah, I'm so going to be the Lucas Scott/dude from October Road type of writer, that has a book that's really about their old friends with their names switched and whatnot. Hmmm ... wonder if Justine will be fooled if I change her into "Christine?" And Dan will so not be suspicious of "Sam." And Sweta ... will just have a new name.

Anons:

_Ellen Finer_ – I sincerely hope it wasn't the Mountain Dew.

_Natalia_ – Thanks. I will.

_mimosa_ – Glad you enjoyed it. It's inspired by my younger cousins (the elder ones are breeding, you see), which can be right little terrors when they put their minds to it. I really like the idea, too, but I'm only doing it when this and one of my other fics is done, and if I feel like I have time in between classes.

Two chapters left!

Disclaimer: Really, I'm J.K. Rowling. Couldn't you tell?

Ron really didn't know how he got himself into these things. He really didn't. They'd just be having a nice conversation over breakfast before the kids were up, laughing and joking and poking at each other, gently enough that no one got angry but hard enough that things stayed interesting. Then he'd say something, some throw away comment that he didn't even think twice about. And she'd get that look in her eye. The one that told him that he'd poked just a little too hard, and she was about to poke back.

Or punch, as the case may be.

"I can Apperate, Hermione," Ron said as patiently as he could, his knuckles white as he gripped the leather steering wheel. "I told you I was sorry, anyway."

Hermione's face glowed back at him as she surveyed the small car eagerly. "Come on, Ron. It's a perfectly reasonable skill to have, even for a wizard. We don't have any other way to transport our children to places with no Floo."

Rolling his eyes, Ron grumbled, "You're only excited because you want to learn something new."

Hermione blinked at him. "Of course. What's wrong with that?"

"It's _weird_, Hermione," Ron informed her earnestly. "Most people hate learning new things."

"We aren't 'most people,' Ron," Hermione pointed out wryly, "unless you know other people who've done things like battle giant chess sets or break out prisoners that happen to be innocent or ..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ron sighed irritably. "If we're so amazing, why do we have to learn things like driving? Why don't we get one of those nutters to do it for us? You know, that fan club thing?"

"Supporters of Amazing Heroes of War, you mean?" Hermione snorted. "They couldn't even come up with a proper name for their idiotic club. These are the people you want to trust with your life?"

Ron frowned at the dash unhappily. "No, I suppose not. So what do I do, then?"

Hermione's face lit up again at the idea of not only learning, but instructing. "First, you need to put the key into the ignition." Eagerly, she reached into the pocket of her jeans and pressed a tiny key with a plastic head into Ron's hand.

"What's an ingention?"

"An ignition, Ron," Hermione corrected, pointing at the keyhole by the wheel.

Ron shrugged and put the key in the hole. It fit well enough, but nothing happened.

"You have to turn it," Hermione supplied a moment later, as if stating the obvious.

He did so. Instantly, the engine roared to life, making the seat underneath him vibrate slightly. He'd never admit it, to either Hermione or his father, but it was sort of a miracle, how Muggles managed without magic. They were smarter than he gave them credit for, sometimes.

When he looked up, Hermione was giving him an odd look. "What?"

She shook her head, amused. "Didn't you do fly a car up to Hogwarts once?"

Ron shrugged again. "Yeah, when Fred and George had shown me what to do about a week before. It's been years since I last tried to work one of these things."

Hermione looked as if she wanted to laugh about it some more, but she apparently decided that she'd rather boss her husband around some more. "Now, just pull that lever down – yes, that's right – all the way down to D ... yeah, so just step down on the pedal to the right."

Ron pushed down – rather too hard, he decided later. The car lurched uncomfortably, then shot forward with surprising speed. Panicked, Ron cast a Shield Charm into the air in front of them. The car bounced off of it at an angle, sending the car flying off the pavement and into the dip in the hill just in front of their house. They rolled upward quickly; the back left tire touched the furthest stone on their walk for a brief moment. Then the car hurtled back down the hill, spitting grass and mud up on either side, then shuddered to a stop in the middle of the dip, the wheels still battling ferociously with the ground below them. Ron twisted the key and wrenched it out frantically. The motor died abruptly, leaving an odd silence.

Hermione turned to Ron, wide-eyed. Ron stared back, his chest heaving unnaturally fast.

Hermione snorted a little. Ron chuckled a bit. Hermione snickered, her hand covering her mouth. Ron bit his lip, his eyes dancing wickedly.

Then they were both laughing so hard that neither could see nor breathe, holding onto each other for support.

And, as Ron put it cheerfully, as they slugged up the hill, arms around each other, smoke curling up from the car left behind them, "It's not like I need to learn until Rose goes to Hogwarts, anyway."

AN: Short and long in coming, but it amused me, so hopefully it'll do the same for you. I brushed over the bit about Ron actually knowing how to drive because I can't imagine Hermione not being an absolutely perfect driver. And this scene seems so very Ron, doesn't it?


	13. The First to Go

AN: Ok, I know it's been forever. But I have two reasons for that. One, I've started college, and it's pretty much monopolized all my time. Two – 700 hits and 6 reviews? That's less than one review per one hundred readers! Yeah, that's not so good. Bad reviewers! As Fez would say "Good day. I said good day!"

Ahem. I may or may not have watched three entire seasons of That 70's Show in two days. But I digress.

So I kept trying to write this from either Harry or Ginny's POV. It didn't work. So I figured, it's their kid, right? It counts. Besides, James is another character that I may spin off on. I haven't decided yet. So here it is, the second to last chapter. I promise the next one won't take so much time.

Anons:

_mrs. potter _– Thanks very much!

_mimosa_ – Compared to him, I feel fairly skilled at all times. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I'm sitting in my bed on my discounted laptop eating Teddy Grams I bought with coupons. What do you think?

"Alright, James?"

"Alright …"

"You sure? Need a biscuit? Or some tea? You should have some tea. There's a shop down the street, we can just pop in for a mo' …"

"Mum."

"Look. It's not the same as when you're with your cousins and such. All your classmates from wizarding families, they'll be trying to talk to you about me and your Aunt and Uncle."

"Dad."

"I bet you'll be in Slytherin. Slimy, slimy Slytherin!"

"Least I wasn't named after one."

"Al! James!"

"You'll owl me, won't you, Jamie? All the time?"

"Of course, Lil. I'll send you something from Hogsmeade."

"JAMES!"

"I mean, from the castle, where I will be staying like a good little school boy."

"Been talking to Uncle George, have you? I s'pose it's better than sending a toilet seat."

"What's that now?"

"Never mind. Don't need you getting ideas."

"That's right, Dad. I've plenty of my own. No need to get distracted."

Black and red hair clashed and mixed as the famous family swept through the train station. Muggles hurried out of their way as they made their way, chatting and laughing, because even they could tell these people, whoever they were, were definitely important.

In the center of the crowd was James Potter, off to his first year of Hogwarts. Only very strenuous insistence had prevented him by being seen off by his entire extended family. As it was, George, his godfather and mayhem mentor, had insisted on meeting them at the platform, and Neville had been instructed to check on him every hour on the train ride up. His grandparents had said a tearful good-bye at the house, though Grandma Molly had just resisted stepping into the car with them – partially, of course, because Grandpa Arthur had pointed out that there simply wasn't any more room.

In spite of all this, his family was larger than most. Uncle Bill's kids, Teddy Lupin, and Percy's daughter were all going to be on the train with him, though he doubted anyone besides Victoire would actually sit with their little cousin. He doubted whether any of his classmates would know anyone besides one older brother or cousin or something. He was going in knowing nearly fifteen older students and half of the teaching staff, not to mention some of the house elves. Add to that the fact he was the first of the famous Potter children to come to Hogwarts and, well … he hadn't eaten in three days.

Ginny surveyed the platform barrier from a safe distance. "Me n' Lil n' Al'll go first," she muttered, grabbing her children's hands. "Run fast and don't look to either side, just like when we dropped off Teddy, alright?" She waited for them to nod before pulling them both in a sprint. Within seconds they were swallowed whole, leaving the barrier as inconspicuous as ever.

James gripped the suitcase at his side, ready to follow. A heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned his face up to see his father looking down at him, green eyes full of understanding. "It's not fair," Harry rumbled uncomfortably. "You're the first one to have to face them all. Al's going with Rose next year, and then Lilly and Hugo … you're the only one going alone. It's not fair to you."

"I'm fine." This might have fooled his dad if his voice hadn't chosen that moment to squeak.

Harry shook his head. "People talk about us. They talk about me. It's not something I like, but there's not much I can do about it either." He sighed roundly and squeezed James shoulder. "I'm sorry that it's going to affect you."

"I'll be fine," James repeated; this time his voice stayed steady. "Besides," he added, looking down at his feet, "I'm Harry Potter's son, aren't I? That's something."

His father's laughed boomed out. "If you say so. Shall we, then?"

They ran together through the barrier.

The next half hour was a bit of a blur. Greetings were shouted, hands clasped, and George clapped him on the back so hard that he was nearly pitched out onto the tracks. Too soon, he was loaded onto the scarlet train, pulling slowly away from the platform, his family shrinking as they waved and yelled well wishes (except all, who was still singing "Slimy, slimy Slytherin").

"Hullo, James." He turned to see Victoire who, predictably, had stayed behind while all his other cousins had gone off down the corridor. Teddy Lupin was standing just behind her, tapping his foot irritably. Victoire shot him a dirty look before bending down to address James. "Look, if you don't know anyone your age, you can always come sit with us."

Teddy jerked his head in agreement. James wasn't the least bit offended by his actions. Most of the time, Teddy was nicer to him than the lot of his cousins, including George's youngest, who tended to spit. His reluctance was borne of his desire to be alone with his best friend, Victoire, more than trying to get rid of James.

"No. I'd better go meet some new people, you know." He smiled bravely. "I'll be fine."

Victoire nodded before moving off down the train; Teddy shot James a grateful look, and then took off after her. James wondered how many times he'd have to say he was fine before he might actually believe it.

Grumbling, he trailed his bag along, looking for an empty compartment. After a couple minutes, sweaty from his overcoat and scarf, he poked his head into the second to last room. Far from empty, it contained two girls and boy, all talking avidly. Still, they appeared to be his age, so he trundled in anyway. "Oi. Any room for me in here?"

"Suit yourself, mate." The boy motioned to the seat next to him. "Of course, you might not want to sit with us. Our dad's always telling us we're bad influences." The girl across from him sprouted a grin identical to his.

James grinned. "Twins, then? Runs in family, actually. My Uncle George and Aunt Mia's got a pair. My name's James, by the way."

"I'm Nadia Aimsworth," the girl twin quickly spoke up, "and my brother's Nicholas, though nearly everyone calls him Nick. And this is my best friend, Selina Thomas."

"No need to ask who you are," the dark girl said quietly. "You're the oldest Potter, aren't you?"

James peered closely at her before snapping his fingers. "Dean and Luna Thomas! My parents always talk about them. You're always out of the country, is why we've never met. Parents came over for supper once, though."

Selina smiled dreamily. "My mum and dad told me to look out for you. I'm glad to have found you so quickly. Do you intend to try out for the Quidditch team?"

"Harry Potter's son?" Nick didn't seem to be able to contain himself. "You're dad's actually … well, you know. You're really his son?"

James glanced from him to his sister, who was trying to mask the look of awe sketched onto her face. "Yeah, I'm him," he admitted reluctantly, inwardly cringing. Now they were going to ask all sorts of uncomfortable questions about the war and Voldemort.

"Brilliant!" Nick crowed, pumping his fist into the air. "Bloody fantastic! Youngest seeker in a century, he was. And your mum's no slouch either, is she?"

James blinked rapidly. "Er … yeah, I s'pose so. They've been training me, but I fancy being a Beater like my uncle. I'm a fair shot."

"Perfect," Nadia pronounced, punching her brother's arm slightly. "Leaves Seeker for me and Chaser for this idiot. Selina's a right good Keeper, too, blocks her dad half the time."

Selina merely grinned modestly.

James, however, could feel relieved laughter bubbling in his stomach, almost cracking the surface. He had found some possible real friends. Real friends who had no interest in who his father was for any other reason than possible good Quidditch genes.

Maybe Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad after all.

AN: That took longer than expected. Anyway, only one more to go! Oh, and by the way. Anyone catch "Pushing Daisies?" I adore that show! Ned is so sweet without making me want to punch him for being a sap – a rare combination. Now, this time, review, or someone is getting pushed off onto the train tracks or run over by a bus or something. A character, I mean. Heh. I won't like it, but I'll do it. Maybe. Review and find out! Love? Hate? Review!


	14. The Last Moment

AN: So this was mostly done two weeks ago. What happened? Well, my laptop got dunked in water. How, you ask? You don't wanna know, to be honest. You just don't. The point is, it's finally here. The last installment. It ends just where the epilogue begins, just like I planned it (though I admit, I did precious little planning in between). For various reasons, this is the first multi-chaptered fic I've actually completed. I'm going to take a little bow now. Oh, thank you, thank you. No flash photography, please.

Alright, I could do a grand speech here, but I won't. It's been great fun. Thanks to all my lovely reviewers, especially _mimosa_, who reviewed every single chapter, and _The Sushi Monster_, who only missed one. For the last time I'm answering the anons:

_EH_ – It's alright. As long as you get there in the end, that's all that matters. I really do hope I have time for either a James or Teddy and Victoire story at some point, but it's hard with all the homework and class work and weird schedules and my laptop getting covered in like twelve ounces of water. I love Pushing Daisies so very, very much. Digby seems to take it all in stride, but I hope that Olive gets a new boy-toy soon. It was very sad when she kissed Ned and he dropped her like McDonald's coffee when Chuck, his Starbucks frappacino, came hobbling out of the bushes. Hope you've enjoyed the fic!

_mimosa_ – I'm glad you liked it, as usual. Thanks for sticking with this the whole way through!

Here we go …

Disclaimer: Not at all. But I am working on getting a Ron bobble-head.

Thirty-eight minutes and twenty-seven seconds after the Weasleys had left their house outside the city, Rose's palms were still so tightly clenched together that her nails had left red "C"s on the back of her hands. Whether it was from the anticipation of finally attending Hogwarts with James and Al, or the horror of her father driving for maybe the fifth time in his entire life, she wasn't sure. Still, the marks did remind her of the scars on the back of her Uncle Harry's hands. He always said they were his favorite, because he actually earned them, and nobody tended to stare at them, either.

Staring down at those tiny crimson indentations, Rose smiled.

"Honey." Hermione looked over at her youngest tentatively. "Aren't you excited to go to Diagon Alley after we drop off Rose?"

Hugo remained stubbornly silent, as he had done the entire car ride, not to mention the three days before. He was far from pleased that Rose was the first to go to Hogwarts, and not him. Hermione had been trying to cajole him out of his bad mood, at least long enough to say good-bye to his sister. Rose wasn't sure why she bothered. It was much nicer this way. Though she could do without the glares.

Ron hadn't taken much notice of the family drama unfolding under his long nose. He was too excited about driving passably. "These Muggles things aren't so bad, are they, Hermione?" he asked, passing into the next lane just to prove he could. "I reckon Dad may have had it right. About some things, anyway. Collecting those inlets is barking mad."

"Outlets," Hermione corrected automatically. "Rose, you're going to owl Hugo as often as he wants. Aren't you?"

Future Hogwarts prefects took the high road. "Of course I will," Rose replied kindly, smiling down at her little brother.

Hugo, seeing through this gesture as only a little brother can, stuck his tongue out at her, then crossed his arms and turned towards the window.

"Oh, dear," Hermione lamented. She nudged her husband. "Ronald, your son."

"Wha'?" Ron turned to see his children at odds in the backseat. "Ah," he hemmed, cottoning on. "You know, Hugo, Lilly's not getting to go, and she's already got two brothers there."

The little red headed boy scoffed loudly, but his arms uncrossed, and he swiveled his body so that he faced forward again.

Encouraged, Ron continued, "And Maranda Longbottom isn't going, either. You aren't going to want to go without her, are you?"

"I s'pose not," Hugo allowed gruffly. He turned big brown eyes up to Rose. "You'll owl? As much as I like?"

With much more sincerity, Rose assured him she would. Hermione beamed over at her husband, who was looking rather pleased with himself as well.

Only a few minutes later, they were parked ("I told you I could do it, Hermione, it's not that hard making the trunk shrink enough to fit"), Rose's things were piled on top of each other and being dragged along behind her, and in front of them loomed King's Cross Station. Rose had been there half a dozen times already, but today it seemed … grander. Rose marveled up at the building in awe for a moment.

Soon, though, she was distracted by the crowd around her. She had grown up in the wizarding world, of course, but she had very few friends outside of her cousins, and no one besides Al that was her own age. Therefore she scrutinized the people around her, hoping that there would be some tell, some sign that showed that some of these frantic families had wands in their pockets and robes stuffed in their trunks. As people crowded around their tiny family, Rose began to realize that the best tick to identify future witches and wizards were the way the children her age were looking around shiftily, awed and curious at the same time. She was certain she was looking at them the same way.

"It's only a half hour until the train comes," Hermione muttered as she steered the bunch through the populated station. "Ron, stop that!"

His hand halfway up in a wave to a man in suspenders and an ascot, Ron glanced down at his wife curiously. "That's Oscar from Mysteries," Ron explained in a confused sort of way. "It's his son's sixth year."

"We're not supposed to do anything that suggests we're in a group, especially with such large numbers," Hermione hissed, dragging his arm back down to his side. "You can wait until we get to the platform to say hello to work friends. We really do have to be careful."

"Especially as you probably help set up the restrictions," Ron added good-naturedly. Rose felt that her father was simply in too good a mood with his first child going to Hogwarts to start bickering with her mother just yet. "Here we are."

So they were. The great plastic numbers of numbers 9 and 10 were on either side of the famous barrier; all around them stood clusters of people, eyeing the invisible doorway warily and checking the gazes of Muggles around them before leaning on, running toward, or, in one memorable case, diving through the portway. Unbidden, Rose's feet began to tingle. She shifted from side to side to try to keep the feeling isolated – if it got up to her head, she had no idea what would happen. But she sort of thought she might explode. Actually, literally explode.

Her mother's hand pressed gently against her back. "You and your father go through first. Hugo and I will come right after you, so just wait on the other side."

Rose tilted her head up to look into her dad's grinning face. Winking, the lanky redhead extended a large hand. She took it, trembling a little. They started off, walking casually towards the barrier. Ron made a show of pointing out trains and platforms, and she nodded enthusiastically, as if she were a little girl being shown King's Cross for the first time. Stealing a look around, Ron leaned purposefully on the wall. Rose did the same. In a second, they were through.

Great plumes of grey smoke swirled around the loads of people crowded onto the platform. Families and friends gathered and chattered; enthusiastic greetings rang through the great hallowed ceilings. An older boy nearby was sitting down and rubbing his head ruefully while concerned wizards and witches clustered around him. Rose recognized him as the person who had attempted to dive through. Sparks flared all around as wands were removed from their hiding places in children's pockets and they attempted to demonstrate what small magic they knew to their friends, boasting of how much they already knew and how easy classes would be. A group of older students were surrounding a girl holding a large box and sporting a wicked grin. For a moment, Rose swore she heard a pining screech emitting from within the wood.

In the background, framed by the swarm of activity, was the great scarlet engine of the Hogwarts train. And it was finally her turn to board.

She was aware of her family pressed in on all sides as Hermione and Hugo burst through the portal, Hermione wheezing slightly. They'd obviously taken the portal at a run. Hugo had already joined his father in scanning the crowd for the Potters.

Her family had always told her of the adventures they'd had at Hogwarts. Rose was entering the castle knowing more secrets, hidden rooms, and trick staircases than the NEWT students. She could imagine seeing the evidence of her family everywhere she went. There was the broken tap with the snake in the girl's loo; the names splattered all over the big cups in the trophy case; the scorched walls of the Room of Requirement that would never come out; Uncle Hagrid tramping across the great lawn and the odd encounter with Uncle Neville in the hallways. She was a Weasley. She was the daughter of the great Auror Ron Weasley and the brilliant barrister Hermione Weasley. She was the niece of Harry and Ginny Potter. She was smart and good and important.

Rose Weasley was going to Hogwarts.

Unconsciously, she reached out and tugged Hugo's hand to her. She ignored his protestations and his attempts to wiggle out of her sweaty grip. He might not be able to tell, but on the inside, she was exploding all over the place.

"There's Harry," Ron mentioned, gesturing to a spot a couple dozen yards away. He bent to kiss Hermione on the head, then crushed his young daughter to his side. "Are you ready, then?"

Rose grinned up at him cheekily, the spitting image of her Uncle George. "Of course. If you all could do it, how hard can it be?"

With that, she strode off, leading the group towards her cousins, the platform, and her future.

AN: And that's all she wrote. Literally. This is a done deal, but I've hope you've all had a little fun. Love? Hate? Review!


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